Joke's On You, Kid
by Apathyisdeath
Summary: The Exile and Mical decide to try playing Pazaak...but what does adorable drunk Atton have to say about that! Atton/FemExile


THUD! Trija Harrld squinted. The thudding on the outside of the Ebon Hawk was relentless. Her current situation would be enough to annoy even the gentlest of creatures, so it was a shock when the man sitting opposite her stared determinedly at his hand of cards. The man opposite her had blond hair that would not be out of place in the front of a salon window. It was impossibly sculpted, annoyingly so.

THUD-THUD! The exile growled to herself. The man opposite her, Mical, whipped his eyes up. He seemed oblivious to the racket on the ship's exterior.

"Are you growling at me?" Mical asked politely. Trija secretly rolled her eyes.

"No, I was not growling at you," You moron, she added mentally. Lack of sleep and the thudding on metal was making her unusually aggravated. "I was growling at the fracking noise on the fracking ship!" The out-of-character language made Mical widen his eyes slightly, like a schoolboy learning a curse.

"Ah, I did not hear it. Perhaps you have not slept enough, Trija. Shall I escort you to your dormitory?" Trija put her cards on the table to press her cool hand to her forehead.

She closed her eyes, imagining she was alone. She had planned to be alone in the cockpit until Mical arrived. The cockpit was strangely devoid of Atton Rand. Trija smiled. That was a name she was used to. He reminded her a bit of herself during her exile. A bit...rough around the edges, to put it lightly. When Trija had kindly asked Mical where the pilot was, he seemed to take this as an invitation to sit down and play pazaak with the exile. She was too kind to just shoo Mical away. He was like an annoying little boy who would do anything to please Trija. He was sweet in a way. He reminded her of her younger brother, she thought with a smile. Before he died. Trija shook that out of her mind. The Ebon Hawk was currently docked in Nar Shadaa, a seamy planet full of cantinas and gangsters. The noise there to a trained jedi such as herself was almost slightly unbearable.

"I'll go and investigate, then," She said, to no one in particular.

THUD-THUD-THUD! THUD-THUD!

"Stop it! For frack's sake!" It was late night and almost pitch black. Trija looked at the time piece on her wrist. It glowed that it was two hours past midnight. Trija groped in the darkness for the chain that would allow her to step out on the ramp of the ship. She was dreading smelling the musty smell of decay that welcomed visitors to Nar Shadaa. There! She had made contact with the chain and used her hands to pull down the ramp with great effort. The cold air hit Trija like a fist and she shivered in her normal beige tunic. The ramp eventually clunked to a loud stop on the ground and Trija found herself face-to-face with no other than the elusive Atton Rand. There was a usual cocky smile on his face, but it was obvious he was different. Drunk. Not just a little tipsy by the smell of Juma Juice around him.

Trija sighed. She lent against the frame of the ramp, folding her arms. She muttered something under her breath and walked away. She threw Atton a dirty look over her shoulder. He shrugged in his Juma-clouded mind. What was her problem? He decided to follow her as she was headed to the cockpit, his favourite place of the ship; quiet, small and a place where prissy Miss Mical would never dare to tread. Atton shivered. How long did it take to answer a fracking door? Or ramp. Trija ignored the rough footsteps behind her, trying to feel mad at the pilot. She couldn't help but smile to herself. He was trying his best to conceal how drunk he actually was. She was trying to talk to Mical in a calm voice.

"No I do not think that Kreia is r-" she was interrupted by an elbow on her shoulder. It was Atton, grinning at Mical while reaching slightly downwards to lean on Trija's right shoulder.

"Hey, Kid. Why don't you go nurse a bantha? It's way past your bed-time." Atton slurred slightly, holding up his index finger. Trija pursed her lips together. Don't laugh, she thought, don't laugh at Mical's expression.

"I would assume, Atton, that you are rather drunk. So perhaps it is infact 'way past your bedtime'." Mical retorted. He made for the exit of the cockpit, stopping only to give the exile a worried glance over his shoulder.

"Hah, scared 'im off." Atton stated triumphantly. Trija turned slowly to Atton, making his elbow fall off her shoulder and slip back to his side.

"Yes, you did. You know what the poor kid thinks of me. Kreia said-" Trija stopped there. Yes, Kreia had said that the disciple "worshipped her silently", but Kreia had also mentioned how Atton danced in her shadow for her "favour". Something like that, she dismissed. Atton didn't need to hear that.

"I know what the kid thinks of you," Atton said "and I. Don't. Like. It." He prodded Trija gently with each sentence. When Trija didn't reply, but instead concentrated on the floor, he coughed and said

"Kreia said what? I'mma fool? Old scow's probably right." Trija looked up sharply, without even meaning to.

"No she's not." She said quietly. They were standing so close that their noses would almost touch, if they were the same height. Trija cleared her throat. It was almost impossible for her to look in to his eyes. She feared that she would do something she would regret if she did. That was her one weakness.

"You know, Mical thought I growled at him just now. Like a kath hound, or something." Trija mentioned. Atton giggled drunkenly and growled. She grinned up at him.

"I think I prefer your company," She added simply. "you remind me of me." Atton put on a face of mock-confusion.

"What, you have a really big crush on yourself?" He chuckled lightly. Trija looked away from his eyes again. She wasn't allowed to do this. Atton was too drunk to be telling the truth. The Juma on his breath proved that. Her train of thought was interrupted by hand under her chin

"No, really. I do." Atton sighed. Trija's eyes glittered slightly as she looked at Atton.

"Do what?" She asked innocently.

"I really...admire you. The way you brushed of that kid, and the way your eyes just glittered." He said quietly, almost hard to hear. Trija laughed a single, short laugh. She paused.

"Can you really admire someone's eyes glittering?"

"Look, in case you haven't notice, sweetheart, I'm drunk," He said holding his hands up in a defensive way, before lowering his voice in a soft way. "All these mysteries. They get to me."

Trija looked lost in thought.

"I don't know, Atton. I'm sure that Kreia wouldn't-"

Atton sighed softly.

"Look, let's just forget about Kreia. She probably can hear all this. Let's concentrate on the now. Not Mical, not Kreia. Just me and you." He landed both his hands on her waist at 'me' and 'you'.

"You know, it should be 'you and I'. That's really not good grammar. It's just Basic." Trija riled, trying to land her hand on Atton's shoulder and around his neck in a subtle way.

"Yeah, it should be you and I. Put the old scow out the airlock. No one has to know." He grinned down at her with a crooked smile.

"Oh, really? And get an ass-kicking from the Council?" Atton just shrugged, still with that stupid grin on his face. He leant down towards Trija slowly as if to whisper something in her ear. She readied herself to hear some kind of secret, so was shocked when Atton bridged the distance to kiss her. The kiss lasted for a good while before Trija broke off.

"Well that was long awaited." She whispered. Atton raised his eyebrows.

"Really? An' here's me thinking you love the disciple kid." Atton smirked. He meant it, though.

"What? Do you really think I would be so...boring?" Trija said, playing with Atton's jacket. He just shrugged and put his arm around her shoulder and Trija automatically rested her head on his shoulder.

"He doesen't love you like I do." He smiled, kissing the top of her head. Trija laughed for what seemed the thousandth time that night.

"This is a new side to you, Rand," She laughed playfully. "you big wimp."

"Nah, I never really liked Mical, to be honest. He's so...boring. I hope I live to see him crack a frackin' smile."

At that precise moment Mical himself trotted in to the cockpit, past Trija and Atton and straight to the other end of the room.

"Forgot my cards," He sniffed, before leaving the room once again. Trija felt a bit guilty, but Atton snorted.

"Since when does the kid play pazaak? I bet he doesen't even know how to play."

"Oh, he does. You should have seen him before you came, he had pazaak skills. Especially with Nar Shadaa rules." Trija said, trying to sound innocent. Atton was silent, so Trija swivelled her head to look at him; his eyes were bulging. She elbowed him sharply in the ribs, which weren't guarded by the arm around her shoulders.

"Joke's on you, kid." She giggled, but sensed he was still worried. "OK, OK. Calm down. Just kidding."

Atton just sighed, chuckled and walked her towards her dormitory.

"I'm not really drunk, you know." He told her, matter-of-factly.


End file.
